Veritas
by Cyndi
Summary: He had lost so much that he nearly forgot what he still had. .o.Movieverse, contains IMPLIED slash and some other stuff.o.


Author's note: This contains tiny hints of slash and I'll just tack on an MPREG warning too, since a character considered male has a child.

The title is Latin for "truth." The story has a slight allusion to the birth of Christ--heck, it's almost Christmas and I wanted to acknowledge it in a less traditional way, 'cause I'm weird like that.

Musical inspiration for the actual birth scene: _Veni, Veni_ by Mannheim Steamroller.

.o

**Veritas**

.o

Peace.

Optimus hardly remembered what it felt like before now. The Allspark was gone, Jazz was in pieces, Bumblebee was mutilated and almost everything he loved had been lost to the stars.

All but one, and he held it now.

He let his gaze wander to the yellow head resting on his knee. The optics were dark as the being they belonged to recharged.

Optimus' thumb tapped a gentle cadence, a syncopated volley of three, against Bumblebee's helm. _Bum-ble-bee, bum-ble-bee_.

Bumblebee curled instinctively into his touch--a touch he recognized only in slumber. His legs, barely re-attached an hour ago, twitched. Optimus smiled softly and returned his attention to the horizon. Watching because it was habit to be alert even in the quietest of moments.

So much war, so much death. Yet even in the midst of that he found a single diamond of hope--the gift of life...

"Hey, Optimus!"

The Prime's eyes shifted to focus on Samuel Witwicky. His deep, powerful voice rumbled over the hillside, "Yes, Sam?"

Sam paused, blinking. "Is Bumblebee okay?"

"He's resting." Optimus' hand made another pass over Bumblebee's head. "He'll be able to take you home soon. Right now, Ratchet said he should rest."

"Oh."

Optimus noticed Sam watching him cup Bumblebee's head. The boy's eyes softened, gaining the haze humans often showed when memories crossed their minds. Then his face flushed. He glanced back to make sure Mikaela was out of earshot before he spoke.

"My mom used to do that when I was little."

"It is because she can not believe how far her young has come since his first helpless moments," Optimus whispered--more to himself, but loud enough to be heard. "Motherhood is not an easy role. Seeing your young suffer is the worst torture imaginable."

The boy cocked his head. "No offense or anything...but...how would somebody like you know that?"

That made the Autobot leader chuckle softly. He really liked Sam--he'd proven himself brave and willing to protect his world. Behind him, Mikaela, the one who helped Bumblebee on the battlefield. He found it remarkable that such a savage race could also be so innocent.

He knew he could trust Sam. The fight was over, after all, so there was no harm in revealing a secret even Bumblebee didn't know yet. Leaning over slightly, he said, "Because I am one."

"You?" Sam's eyebrows knitted to wrinkle his forehead. "Um...aren't you a guy?"

Optimus shrugged one shoulder, "My race is neither male nor female, but according to your gender roles I would call myself male."

"Moms are usually--uh--women and...um...to have kids you kind of need to...uh...you know..." He gesticulated in a manner that alluded to sexual intercourse. His face turned even redder than it did when Ratchet commented on his readiness to mate with Mikaela. Humans were always uncomfortable talking about anything regarding sex, it seemed.

"Mothers give birth, don't they?" Optimus asked pointedly, hoping to alleviate the boy's discomfort.

Confusion etched a deeper crease in Sam's forehead. "You've totally lost me. Last I checked, you guys came to life because of the Allspark."

"You're right." Optimus chuckled again. "But, in searching the internet, I realize I've experienced something similar to a religious figure in your history. A child was born through impossible circumstances, and that child became a Savior. Am I right?"

Sam nodded his head. He knelt to tie one of his shoes. "That's where Christmas came from."

"Yes."

"So...are you gonna explain this?"

Optimus' optics glimmered softly in the gloaming settling over the hillside. The fight was over...he figured it was time to lift this burden.

"Before time began, there was the Cube..."

.o

The Cube was a mountainous monolith hidden deep underground. It gave life to Cybertron and all its inhabitants. Some believed it housed a god. Others saw it as pure power.

Optimus remembered when Megatron was beautiful. Long ago, he wasn't a jagged, angular monster of teeth and claws. The Cube changed him. Megatron drank too much of its energy and knowledge. After spending only decades in contact with the Cube, Megatron began to lust for its power. He wanted to be the Creator and dictate who lived and died.

And Optimus was helpless to stop him. His brother--his lover--became an unrecognizable beast. The beauty he possessed had been completely corrupted.

When he looked Optimus in the eye and said, "I hate you, Prime!" --Optimus died inside. Even Megatron's love had been taken from him...a single flower choked by vines that would never uncoil.

Then the war broke out with a fury unseen by the universe. In the middle of it all, the fire, smoke and death, Optimus crawled up to the Cube and prayed.

_I'm not asking you for your power. I'm asking for a way out. Oh, wise Allspark, hear my plea...help me end this war!_

In reply, a blue glow rippled across the Cube's surface and shot into Optimus' chest. The blast knocked Prime halfway across the cavern. Optimus convulsed in agony. Something had been pulled from his Spark and woven into his Matrix of Leadership.

His Matrix was changing. He felt it tugging on his internal components, feeding off his energy.

And after that...

_Life_.

He carried _life_.

He saw his reflection on part of the Cube. Inscriptions had been branded into his helm. Ancient symbols spelling out the future.

_From thy Spark to his hands, I will be borne to destiny_.

Hours later, Optimus found himself under Ratchet's scrutiny. Various instruments pointed to his chest and offered the same results.

"It broke off a piece of your Spark and turned your Matrix into a body. It's literally inside your Spark chamber, feeding off your Spark and energon." Ratchet frowned in concern, "This is too risky, Optimus. Your body isn't built for childbearing! What if this Sparkling consumes your entire chamber to form its body? I'm afraid I can't allow--"

Optimus splayed a hand over his chest, already protective of his precious cargo, "The Allspark gave me this Sparkling when I asked it to help me end the war. This child is a divine gift. It must survive, no matter the cost. If my life has to end for this war to stop, then so be it. I'm having this Sparkling."

Naturally, the medic looked less than pleased. "And what if you deliver in the middle of a firefight? Your Spark will literally push the other one out and into the infant's body. You have no idea what kind of pain that will entail."

"I'm no stranger to pain, Ratchet. I'll manage." Optimus replied, looking up at the X-rays of his chest components. His eyes were drawn to the tiny hands opening and closing, practicing their grip.

He _felt_ that movement. A flutter in his wiring that eventually drove him into overload right there on Ratchet's recharge berth.

Ratchet shook his head. "This is going to be an interesting few months."

Interesting indeed--the Sparkling's movements caused Optimus to overload daily. He learned to keep working and fighting through the searing tingle until the only sign at all was the sudden flare in his optics. It surprised him how _non_-sexual it felt. No, the tingle he'd come to welcome reminded him that he carried a precious life under his Spark. He didn't mind that it left him tired, in need of more energon and spending two extra hours in recharge. Every quiet moment he had, he spent feeling the miniature hands and feet in motion. They often banged out a rhythm. _Bum-ble-bee, bum-ble-bee_.

Optimus nicknamed the Sparkling Bumblebee because of it. Sometimes he tapped back and it won a delighted ripple from within.

Then the war escalated and he no longer had time to tap songs to his child. There would never be time...

.o

Ratchet's words turned out to be prophetic.

Optimus' first pangs began in the middle of the battlefield. Small at first, like a kinked cable, and he paid no attention to it. He fought on for hours--he twisted, dodged and leapt. Sometimes the pains enhanced his strength and he took advantage of those moments. He battled through Decepticon soldiers, taking out the commander of their soulless squadron. Without guidance the troops ran rampant. Chaos reigned.

Then Optimus ducked a missile and felt something in his chest pop. Lubricant leaked through his pectoral plates and ran in rivulets down his body. Skirmishes became a swirling haze. Opponents were brutally dispatched as Optimus lashed out. Pain clouded his perception and he never saw where the bodies fell. He could feel his Spark compress in on itself, hold and release. Slow pulses at first, then more frequent and faster, like a fist tightening. Fighting through the contractions soon became impossible. His body screamed with an instinct he never felt before and did not understand.

Now on his knees, Optimus crawled through smoke, flames and shadows. Shells exploded so close their shrapnel showered him in fire. Still he pressed on. Lubricant trailed in his wake like a golden river.

"Please..." whispered Optimus, "...just a little...further..."

No choice.

He looked to the left. Then to the right. All around him were the bodies of fallen friends and foes, their darkened optics staring into eternity.

Optimus dragged the bodies into a pile. He formed a crude, round shelter and inched underneath, conscious that every single face represented a shattered dream.

He doubled down on his hands and knees. His forehead touched the ground. The pains were less than a minute apart and turned his vision white. Who was he? Why did he hurt? Why was he here, again?

Sightless eyes were everywhere. So many dead...so much white-hot agony. He felt as if his Spark itself exploded--a sudden burst and a separation, part of himself ripped apart and re-shaped into loss, gain, hope, the future...

Optimus' chest plates parted. He clutched at them, only to feel his wiring pull taut and bulge outward. His Spark pulsed, emitting shockwaves that pushed the Sparkling forward.

"Oh!" the Prime dragged air into his intakes. His optics flickered and once or twice he thought he off-lined. Static crackled in his audio sensors. Smells of hot metal, lubricant, oil and energon choked the small space, which was hot from all the heat he generated.

The pain--the _pain_ was unmatched by any physical agony he experienced in the past.

Afraid, alone, but somehow knowing what to do, Optimus screamed a mechanical keening as he offered himself completely to the primal force of Creation itself. A tiny head half the size of his palm began to crown through the wall of cables. Grease and mech fluid clung to it and came off on his hand in strings. Optimus growled into the burning sensation of sensors stretched to the limit...like a ring of fire. Steam rose and body fluids boiled, adding to his discomfort. He groaned, hissed and panted, arching his back to relax the tense wires. Furrows marked where his fingers dug into the dirt. His engines strained, enhancing his Spark's shockwaves. The head inched out further. Then the Sparkling moved, throwing Optimus into a limbo of overload and agony. He was deaf and blind to the chaos outside his makeshift shelter. Outside did not matter. His objective--to have this child--became the only thing he cared about. He felt every inch of his baby as it emerged from his body.

And so, with death and despair pressing down upon his back, Optimus Prime revved his engines one last time and cried out as he created life. His agonized shriek faded to silence--and, almost gently, the light of a newborn Spark illuminated his face like a sun shedding its nebular shell.

"Unh..." Optimus collapsed onto his side, clutching a steaming form that fit perfectly in both hands.

The baby was little more than a skeleton frame. His internal components were completely exposed--including the white Spark glowing like an ember in his chest. An energon tube and power cables dangled from his belly, the other end still connected to Optimus' fuel pump and Spark chamber.

One miniature hand wrapped around Optimus' index finger. Brilliant blue optics flickered online and looked at him...and Optimus fell completely in love. Somehow, some way, everything would be okay.

Suddenly, the infant let out a shriek that cleared his intakes. His limbs flailed. He seemed upset to be rejected from the familiar, small space he previously occupied.

Optimus immediately forgot the pain of his delivery. There was just those two eyes and a Spark shining hope across the otherwise hopeless future. He pulled the newborn to his chest, his large hands offering the utmost gentleness.

"It's all right...little one..." He carefully--barely a flutter--tapped on the baby's back. The syncopated cadence of three soft beats. _Bum-ble-bee, bum-ble-bee_...

The wailing stopped instantly.

Optimus' eyes softened. "Bumblebee."

A springing sound, the mechanical equivalent to a hiccup.

"Then that will be your name." He nuzzled Bumblebee's cheek. "Bumblebee."

Light shone between the bodies Optimus piled on his back. It shattered the peaceful moment. Optimus peeked just his head out and beheld a supernova lighting up the sky directly overhead. Smoke on the horizon parted long enough to reveal Decepticon patrollers scanning the area. The dark soldiers looked like spiked death bringers against the fire and ruin.

They would take Bumblebee. They would kill him.

The idea sent rage spilling into the Prime's neural network. A hot, swelling burn like the detonation of a nuclear weapon.

Optimus used one hand to shield Bumblebee and drew his glowing wrist blade. When Megatron's men were less than ten yards away, he forced his tired body upright. The nameless drones--Cube-born from machinery and utterly soulless--opened fire. Optimus dodged their lasers. He savagely slew them while simultaneously clutching Bumblebee gently to his chest in a protective embrace. Keeping his baby alive was all that mattered, and he would do anything to ensure it.

Optimus woke from his frenzy to more lifeless remains at his feet. They'd been bathed in Bumblebee's birth fluids. He retracted his blade and cupped Bumblebee's head so he wouldn't see the taint of war.

Bumblebee whined and moved his hands.

"We're okay, Bumblebee. Don't cry," Optimus whispered. He scanned the desolated landscape, and upon finding it clear he jerked into a sprint for the nearest trench. Once there, he slid through grit to squat with his back against the jagged wall. Shadows and dust clouds were his only cover.

The infant kept crying. Optimus finally turned on his fuel pump and let energon flow through the umbilical line. Bumblebee quieted down--he was just hungry. Feeding him offered calmness amidst chaos. Optimus gazed into his son's clear optics. Bumblebee peered up at him in complete love and trust. He barely possessed a face...and somehow he_ smiled_ the most beautiful little smile Optimus had ever seen.

Sighing, Optimus tried to wipe off some of the fluids still coating Bumblebee's body. It didn't work. He worried it would leave a trail the Decepticons could track.

Of course, as soon as he had his fill, Bumblebee squawked again.

"What now?" asked Optimus--not out of impatience or anger, but concern that the noise would compromise his position. He turned Bumblebee right side up, jiggling him slightly to get a better grip...and a cloud of exhaust sprouted from Bumblebee's backside. The Sparkling's discomfort instantly ceased.

Of course--air in his fuel pump. His little body didn't know how to regulate it, so the bubbles had to be manually jarred loose.

Optimus secured Bumblebee in his arms. He checked his surroundings again and raced to take cover behind a row of abandoned barracks. Take cover, check, run. Cover, check, run. Seekers were right on his heels--they didn't know it, but he was scared. Hopefully the trail was too irregular to follow. He repeated the random pattern all the way back to base, and only after venturing inside did he feel safe enough to breathe.

.o

Optimus and Ratchet agreed not to reveal exactly how Bumblebee came to be, not even to Bumblebee himself. It hurt Optimus to keep such a secret from his own offspring, but doing so was for the good of the whole Autobot army--and possibly the future.

Ratchet built Bumblebee a larger, more stable body. Having a helpless infant around put too much risk on the entire garrison, but it left a bad feeling in Optimus' circuits.

"What if he doesn't integrate?"

"He will," said Ratchet, "He is so small right now that his memory chips can barely process any data. We need him ready to--"

"...I know." Optimus hung his head. Bumblebee was less than a day old and he had to be pushed into this horrible war. In some ways he wanted to hang onto the little Sparkling and never hand him over. Nobody was innocent anymore. Now, here he was with the most innocent creature seen in millennia...and he had to watch it erode away.

"I'm so sorry, Bumblebee," he whispered. "I am _so_ sorry."

He disconnected the umbilicus and handed Bumblebee to Ratchet. Bumblebee twisted in the medic's hands, his frail arms reaching for his mother. Soft whines filled the medical bay. Optimus stretched out an arm, instinctively, but just as quickly pulled himself back.

Ratchet cradled Bumblebee gently to his chest and carried him into the next room.

If Optimus Prime wasn't a soldier, he would have broken down and cried. He sat there with the umbilical lines still dangling from his chest plate. His Spark ached. It was probably the most empty moment of his entire existence.

One hour passed.

Ratchet emerged, and behind him stood a figure similar to Optimus. Gentle blue optics penetrated the dim room. The form emerged, looked up and his eyes tilted in a warm smile. He lifted his hand in a salute.

"Bumblebee, reporting for duty--sir!"

Optimus didn't let his pain show. He slid off the examination table and hardened his expression. He was a Prime, his job--above all else--was to lead.

"Your orders are to meet with Ironhide and begin your battle training."

"Yes, sir."

Optimus allowed himself to lay a hand gently on Bumblebee's head. Every second he spent looking into those clear optics made the pain in his Spark grow. "Good luck, Bumblebee."

Then he watched him walk away and longed once more to feel those tiny hands wrap around his fingers. Would everything he ever loved fall victim to this war? First Megatron and now Bumblebee. Emptiness threatened to swallow him whole. He barely noticed Ratchet offering a comforting pat on the back.

"It has to be this way, Optimus. You can tell him the truth when the war is over." Ratchet's eyes were sympathetic. Being a doctor, he could always tell when a patient was in pain--mental or physical. "Until then, Optimus, he is a soldier and nothing more."

The Autobot leader hung his head. _It may be too late. What if he's killed? What if I'm killed? Who will tell him then?_

.o

Silence pervaded the hilltop as Optimus finished his story. He didn't expect the memories to be so painful. Oh, how the secret weighed on his Spark. For the briefest moment he mused over his Earth body and how it wouldn't have allowed the miraculous birth he experienced millions of years ago.

Bumblebee remained drawn to Optimus all this time--his Spark knew what his conscious mind did not. Having Bumblebee rest on his knee was like holding him again. He still recalled that tiny body, those fragile hands...

"That's just...wow, Optimus...it had to be hell watching those Sector Seven guys catch him--" Sam dabbed at the corners of his eyes with his knuckles. "--it even got to me, and I don't get weepy easy."

No words were truer than those.

Sam went on, "He--transformed the Cube. He seemed to know exactly what to do."

"He was born for that moment." Optimus flashed a slight smile, "And _you_ saved his life so he could fulfill his destiny. For that, Sam, I can never repay you enough."

"Ah, don't worry about it." The boy smiled, "Bumblebee's my pal, and pals take care of each other."

Chuckling, Optimus glanced down and saw Bumblebee's optics online. He felt the yellow mech grasp his hand. His trembling fingers left no question that he heard the whole story.

Terror wrapped its cold claws around Optimus' throat. Bumblebee had been captured and tortured by both Megatron and the humans. He'd gone through more than anyone in his entire army. Many times Optimus was in a position to save him, and couldn't due to circumstances requiring he act for his troops rather than one mech.

Optimus expected Bumblebee to reject him immediately. He'd failed Bumblebee as a mother--by not being there, not telling him...

"Your voice always offered the most comfort," whispered Bumblebee, "Now...I know why."

Sam inched away towards Mikaela and Ratchet, though Optimus didn't notice until he glanced up.

"Can you ever forgive me?" The regret choked Optimus' intakes, bringing him closer to weeping than he had ever been in his life. A fine mech fluid mist briefly fogged his optics. He looked skyward and blinked to clear them.

"Why should you be sorry for bringing life into the world?" Bumblebee smiled with his optics. He squeezed Optimus' hand again. "I was born for a purpose. I served that purpose."

"But I left you to--"

"Mother."

The word stopped Optimus short. It opened like a flower in his audio sensors. Such a human word, yet so full of meaning.

"If I learned this information without the details...yes, I would have been angry. But I heard the whole story and I understand the reasoning." Bumblebee went on, "You did what you had to for the good of us all. Like you, I was willing to give my life if it meant winning this war." Then his radio crackled and the hoarse voice of _Star Trek's_ Spock filtered out, _"Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few..."_

_"...or the one,"_ Optimus' radio finished the quote. Then he spoke-- "Bumblebee..." --and cupped the back of Bumblebee's head as the part of him that ached slowly healed itself. The war left two holes in his life--one of which would never refill. But the other, larger one...the missing piece fell right into place and sang a song of belonging.

He had lost so much that he nearly forgot what he still had. Here, in his arms, was a life that came from his own.

Bumblebee's optics twinkled. "Do the others know?"

Optimus glanced at the gathering a short ways off. Sam gave a thumbs up. Optimus smiled and tapped a familiar cadence on Bumblebee's helm. "They will, my son...they will."


End file.
